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From Plotzk to Boston 



By Mary Antin 



With a Foreword 

BY 

Israel Zangwill 



Published by W. B. Clarke Co 
Park Street Church, Boston, Mass 



From Plotzk to Boston 



BY 

Mary Antin 



WITH A FOREWORD BY 

Israel Zangwill 



SECOND EDITION 



BOSTON, MASS 

W\ B. CI^ARKE & CO., PARK STREET CHURCH 

1899 



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THE IJBRARY Q? 



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COPYRIGHT, l89Q> 
BY MARY ANTIN 



PRESS OF PHILIP COWEM 
NEW YORK CITY 



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DEDICATED TO 

HATTIE L. HECHT 

WITH THE LOVE AND GRATITUDE OF 

THE AUTHOR 



FOREWORD. 



The "infant phenomenon" in literature is rarer than in 
more physical branches of art, but its productions are not 
likely to be of value outside the doting- domestic circle. 
Even Pope who ''lisped in numbers for the numbers 
came," did not add to our Anthology from his cradle, 
though he may therein have acquired his monotonous 
rocking-metre. Immaturity o! mind and experience, so 
easily disguised on the stage or the music-stool — even 
by adults — is more obvious in the field of pure intellect. 
The contribution with which Mary Antin makes her de- 
but in letters iSj^ however, saved from the emptiness of 
embryonic thinking by being a record of a real experi- 
ence, the greatest of her life; her journey from Russia 
to Boston. Even so, and remarkable as her description 
is for a girl of eleven — for it was at this age that she 
first wrote the thing in Yiddish, though she was thirteen 
when she translated it into English — it would scarcely 
be worth publishing merely as a literary curiosity. But 
it happens to possess an extraneous value. For, despite 
the great wave of Russian immigration into the United 
States, and despite the noble spirit in which the Jews of 



8 

America have grappled with the invasion, we still know 
too little of the inner feelings of the people themselves, 
nor do we adequately realize what magic vision of free 
America lures them on to face the great journey to the 
other side of the world. 

Mary Antin's vivid description of all she and her dear 
ones went through, enables us to see almost with our own 
eyes how the invasion of America appears to the impecu- 
nious invader. It is thus "a. human document" of con- 
siderable value, as well as a promissory note of future per- 
formance. The quick senses of the child, her keen pow- 
ers of observation and introspection, her impressionabil- 
ity both to sensations and complex emotions — these are 
the very things out of which literature is made; the raw 
stuflf of art. Her capacity to handle English — after so 
short a residence in America — shov/s that she possesses 
also the instrument of expression. More fortunate than 
the poet of the Ghetto, Morris Rosenfeld, she will have 
at her command the most popular language in the world, 
and she has already produced in it passages of true liter- 
ature, especially in her impressionistic rendering of the 
sea and the bustling phantasmagoria of travel. 

What will be her development no one can say precisely, 
and I would not presume either to predict or to direct it, 
for "the wind bloweth where it iisteth." It will probably 
take lyrical shape. Like most modern Jewesses who 



have written, she is, I fear, destined to spiritual suffer- 
ing: fortunately her work evidences a genial talent for 
enjoyment and a warm humanity which may serve to 
counterbalance the curse of reflectiveness. That she is 
growing, is evident from her own Introduction, written 
only the other day, with its touches of humor and more 
complex manipulation of groups of facts. But I have 
ventured to counsel delay rather than precipitation in 
production — for she is not yet sixteen — and the comple- 
tion of her education, physical no less than intellectual; 
and it is to this purpose that such profits as may accrue 
from this publication will be devoted. Let us hope this 
premature recognition of her potentialities will not in- 
jure their future flowering, and that her development will 
add to those spiritual and intellectual forces of which big- 
hearted American Judaism stands sorely in need. I 
should explain in conclusion, that I have neither added 
nor subtracted, even a comma, and that I have no credit 
in "discovering" Mary Antin. I did but endorse the 
verdict of that kind and charming Boston household in 
which I had the pleasure of encountering the gifted Rus- 
sian girl, and to a member of which this little volume is 
appropriately dedicated. 

I. Zangwill. 



PREFATORY. 



In the year 1891, a mighty wave of the emigration 
movement swept over all parts of Russia, carrying with 
it a vast number of the Jewish population to the distant 
shores of the New World — from tyranny to democracy, 
from darkness to light, from bondage and persecution to 
freedom, justice and equality. But the great mass knew 
nothing of these things; they were going to the foreign 
world in hopes only of earning their bread and worship- 
ing their God in peace. The different currents that 
directed the course of that wave cannot be here enumer- 
ated. Suffice it to say that its power was enormous. All 
over the land homes were broken up, families separated, 
lives completely altered, for a common end. 

The emigration fever was at its height in Polotzk, my 
native town, in the central western part of Russia, on the 
Dvina River. "America" was in everybody's mouth. 
Business men talked of it over their accounts; the market 
women made up their quarrels that they might discuss it 
from stall to stall; people who had relatives in the famous 
land went around reading their letters for the enlighten- 
ment of less fortunate folks; the one letter-carrier in- 
formed the public how many letters arrived from Amer- 



12 

ica, and who were the recipients; children played at emi- 
grating; old folks shook their sage heads over the even- 
ing fire, and prophesied no good for those who braved 
the terrors of the sea and the foreign goal beyond it; — 
all talked of it, but scarcely anybody knew one true fact 
about this magic land. For book-knowledge was not 
for them; and a few persons — they were a dressmaker's 
daughter, and a merchant with his two sons — who had 
returned from America after a long visit, happened to be 
endowed with extraordinary imagination, (a faculty 
closely related to their knowledge of their old country- 
men's ignorance), and their descriptions of Hfe across the 
ocean, given daily, for some months, to eager audiences, 
surpassed anything in the Arabian Nights. One sad fact 
threw a shadow over the splendor of the gold-paved, 
Paradise-like fairyland. The travelers all agreed that 
Jews lived there in the most shocking impiety. 

Driven by a necessity for bettering the family circum- 
stances, and by certain minor forces which cannot now 
be named, my father began to think seriously of casting 
his lot with the great stream of emigrants. Many family 
councils were held before it was agreed that the plan 
must be carried out. Then came the parting; for it was 
impossible for the whole family to go at once. I re- 
member it, though I was only eight. It struck me as 
rather interesting to stand on the platform before the 



13 

train, with a crowd of friends weeping in sympathy with 
us, and father waving his hat for our special benefit, and 
saying — the last words we heard him speak as the train 
m.oved off — 

"Good-bye, Polotzk, forever!" 

Then followed three long years of hope and doubt for 
father in America and us in Russia. There were toil 
and suffering and waiting and anxiety for all. There 
were — but to tell of all that happened in those years I 
should have to write a separate history. The happy day 
came when we received the long-coveted summons. 
And what stirring times followed! The period of pre- 
paration was one of constant delight to us children. We 
were four — my two sisters, one brother and myself. Our 
playmates looked up to us in respectful admiration; 
neighbors, if they made no direct investigations, bribed 
us with nice things for information as to what was going 
into every box, package and basket. And the house was 
dismantled — people came and carried off the furniture; 
closets, sheds and other nooks were emptied of their 
contents; the great wood-pile was taken away until only 
a few logs remained; ancient treasures such as women 
are so loth to part with, and which mother had carried 
with her from a dear little house whence poverty had 
driven us, were brought to light from their hiding places, 
and sacrificed at the altar whose flames were consuming 
so much that was fraught with precious association and 
endeared by family tradition; the number of bundles and 
boxes increased daily, and our home vanished hourly; 



14 

the rooms became quite uninhabitable at last, and we 
children glanced in glee, to the anger of the echoes, when 
we heard that in the evening we were to start upon our 
journey. 

But we did not go till the next morning, and then as 
secretly as possible. For, despite the glowing tales con- 
cerning America, people flocked to the departure of emi- 
grants much as they did to a funeral; to weep and lament 
while (in the former case only, I believe) they envied. 
As everybody in Polotzk knew us, and as the departure 
of a whole family was very rousing, we dared not brave 
the sympathetic presence of the whole township, that 
we knew we might expect. So we gave out a false 
alarm. 

Even then there was half the population of Polotzk on 
hand the next morning. We were the heroes of the 
hour. I remember how the women crowded around 
mother, charging her to deliver messages to their rela- 
tives in America; how they made the air ring with their 
unintelligible chorus; how they showered down upon us 
scores of suggestions and admonitions; how they made 
us frantic with their sympathetic weeping and wringing 
of hands; how, finally, the ringing of the signal bell set 
them all talking faster and louder than ever, in desperate 
efforts to give the last bits of advice, deliver the last mes- 
sages, and, to their credit let it be said, to give the final, 
hearty, unfeigned good-bye kisses, hugs and good 
wishes. 

Well, we lived through three years of waiting, and 



15 

also through a half hour of parting. Some of our rela- 
tives came near being carried off, as, heedless of the last 
bell, they lingered on in the car. But at last they, too, 
had to go, and we, the wanderers, could scarcely see the 
rainbow wave of colored handkerchiefs, as, dissolved in 
tears, we were carried out of Polotzk, away, from home, 
but nearer our longed-for haven of reunion; nearer, in- 
deed, to everything that makes life beautiful and gives 
one an aim and an end — freedom, progress, knowledge, 
light and truth, with their glorious host of followers. But 
we did not know it then. 

The following pages contain the description of our 
journey, as I wrote it four years ago, when it was all fresh 
in my memory. M. A. 

Boston, January, 1899. 



Preface to Second Edition. 

I am glad of this opportunity to correct a mistake made 
in the first edition of this little sketch, which from the be- 
ginning had the good fortune of being put before a very 
considerable world of readers; namely, those of "The 
American Hebrew." A printer confounded the name of 
my native town, Polotzk, with that of the Polish town, 
Plotzk. Thus it happens that my birthplace is er- 
roneously transferred to Poland, and even my friend Mr. 
Zangwill was sufficiently misled to call me a Polish girl; 
while, as a matter of fact, my native town is Polotzk, and 
I am consequently a Russian. While the necessary cor- 



i6 

rections have been made in the text, the title itself has 
been allowed to stand to avoid confusion. 

I cannot let this excellent opportunity pass without 
making some acknowledgement of the many debts of 
gratitude I incurred through the publication of the story 
of my journey. To the world at large I owe many thanks 
for the warm kindness with which it received my little 
firstling. The ready, sympathetic appreciation which 
has met its entrance into a world usually critical enough 
has been such as to cause me no little surprise. 

A few of the friends who did the most towards making 
the publication possible must be thanked individually. 
But for the repeated and urgent request of my dear friend 
once my teacher, Mary S. Dillingham, when I first knew 
her, now Mrs. Frederick Whiton, the little sketch would 
never have been translated intO' English. My friend to 
whom I gratefully dedicated the little volume was the first 
to suggest its publication and her untiring efforts brought 
me the friendly interest of Mr. Philip Cowen of "The 
American Hebrew," by whose unceasing kindness, to- 
gether with that of Messrs. W. B. Clarke & Co., the pub- 
lishers, the undertaking, which seemed to promise little 
enough success was carried through so well. 

I believe that the warm welcome which met my little 

story is due more to the endorsement of my dear friend, 

Mr. Zangwill, than to any merits of the story itself. And 

I therefore take this opportunity of thanking the dear 

friend who has done so much for me, — so much ! 

M. A. 
Boston, Mass., May 3, 1899. 



FROM PLOTZK TO BOSTON. 



The short journey from Polotzk to Vilna was unevent- 
ful. Station after station was passed without our taking 
any interest in anything, for that never-to-be-forgotten 
leave taking at the Plotzk railway station left us all in 
such a state of apathy to all things except our own 
thoughts as could not easily be thrown oflf. Indeed, had 
we not been obliged to change trains at Devinsk and, 
being the inexperienced travellers we were, do a great 
deal of bustling and hurrying and questioning of porters 
and mere idlers, I do not know how long we would have 
remained in that same thoughtful, silent state. 

Towards evening we reached Vilna, and such a wel- 
come as we got! Up to then I had never seen such a 
mob of porters and isvostchiky. I do not clearly remem- 
ber just what occurred, but a most vivid recollection of 
being very uneasy for a time is still retained in my mem- 
ory. You see my uncle was to have met us at the sta- 
tion, but urgent business kept him elsewhere. 

Now it was universally believed in Polotzk that it was 
wise not to trust the first isvostchik who offered his ser- 
vices when one arrived in Vilna a stranger, and I dO' not 



i8 

know to this day how mother managed to get away from 
the mob, and how, above all, she dared to trust herself 
with her precious baggage to one of them. But I have 
thought better of Vilna isvostchiky since, for we were 
safely landed after a pretty long drive in front of my un- 
cle's store, with never one of our number lost, never 
a bundle stolen or any mishap whatever. 

Our stay in Vilna was marked by nothing of interest. 
We stayed only long enough for some necessary papers 
to reach us, and during that time I discovered that Vilna 
was very much like Plotzk, though larger, cleaner and 
noisier. There were the same coarse, hoarse-voiced 
women in the market, the same kind of storekeepers in 
the low store doors, forever struggling and quarrelling 
for a customer. The only really interesting things I re- 
member vs^ere the horsecars, which I had never even 
heard of, and in one of which I had a lovely ride for five 
copeiky, and a large book store on the Nemetzka yah 
Ulitza. The latter object may not seem of any interest to 
most people, but I had never seen so many books in one 
place before, and I could not help regarding them with 
longing and wonder. 

At last all was in readiness for our start. This was 
really the beginning of our long journey, which I shall 
endeavor to describe. 

I will not give any description of the various places we 



19 

passed, for we stopped at few places and always under 
circumstances which did not permit of sightseeing. I 
shall only speak of such things as made a distinct im- 
pression upon my mind, which, it must be remembered, 
was not mature enough to be impressed by what older 
minds were, while on the contrary it was in just the state 
to take in many things which others heeded not. 

I do not know the exact date, but I do know that it 
was at the break of day on a Sunday and very early in 
April when we left Vilna. We had not slept any the 
night before. Fannie and I spent the long hours in play- 
ing various quiet games and watching the clock. At last 
the long expected hour arrived; our train would be due 
in a short time. All but Fannie and myself had by this 
time fallen into a drowse, half sitting, half lying on some 
of the many baskets and boxes that stood all about the 
room all ready to be taken to the station. So we set to 
work to rouse the rest, and with the aid of an alarm 
clock's loud ringing, we soon had them at least half 
awake; and while the others sat rubbing their eyes and 
trying to look wide awake. Uncle Borris had gone out, 
and when he returned with several droskies to convey us 
to the station, we were all ready for the start. 

We went out into the street, and now I perceived that 
not we alone were sleepy; everything slept, and nature 
also slept, deeply, sweetly. 



20 

The sky was covered with dark ^ray clouds (perhaps 
that was its night-cap), from which a chill, drizzling rain 
was slowly descending, and the thick morning fog shut 
out the road from our sight. No sound came from any 
direction; slumber and quiet reigned everywhere, for 
every thing and person slept, forgetful for a time of joys, 
sorrows, hopes, fears, — everything. 

Sleepily we said our last good-byes to the family, took 
our seats in the droskies, and soon the Hospitalnayah 
Ulitza was lost to sight. As the vehicles rattled along 
the deserted streets, the noise of the horses' hoofs and the 
wheels striking against the paving stones sounded unusu- 
ally loud in the general hush, and caused the echoes to 
answer again and again from the silent streets and alleys. 

In a short time we were at the station. In our impa- 
tience we had come too early, and now the waiting was 
very tiresome. Everybody knows how lively and noisy 
it is at a railroad station when a train is expected. But 
now there were but a few persons present, and in every- 
body's face I could see the reflection of my own dissatis- 
faction, because, like myself, they had much rather have 
been in a comfortable, warm bed than up and about in the 
rain and fog. Everything was so uncomfortable. 

Suddenly we heard a long shrill whistle, to which the 
surrounding dreariness gave a strangely mournful 
sound, the clattering train rushed into the depot and 



21 

stood still. Several passengers (they were very few) left 
the cars and hastened towards where the droskies stood, 
and after rousing the sleepy isvostchiky, were whirled 
away to their several destinations. 

When we had secured our tickets and seen to the bag- 
gage we entered a car in the women's division and waited 
impatiently for the train to start. At last the first signal 
was given, then the second and third; the locomotive 
shrieked and puffed, the train moved slowly, then swiftly 
it left the depot far behind it. 

From Vilna to our next stopping place, Verzbolovo, 
there was a long, tedious ride of about eight hours. As 
the day continued to be dull and foggy, very little could 
be seen through the windows. Besides, no one seemed 
to care or to be interested in anything. Sleepy and tired 
as we all were, we got little rest, except the younger ones, 
for we had not yet got used to living in the cars and could 
not make ourselves very comfortable. For the greater 
part of the time we remained as unsocial as the weather 
was unpleasant. The car was very still, there being few 
passengers, among them a very pleasant kind gentleman 
travelling with his pretty daughter. Mother found them 
very pleasant to chat with, and we children found it less 
tiresome to listen to them. 

At half past twelve o'clock the train came to a stop be- 
fore a large depot, and the conductor announced ''Verz- 



22 

bolovo, fifteen minutes!" The sight that now presented 
itself was very cheering after our long, unpleasant ride. 
The weather had changed very much. The sun was 
shining brightly and not a trace of fog or cloud was to 
be seen. Crowds of well-dressed people were every- 
where — walking up and down the platform, passing 
through the many gates leading to the street, sitting 
around the long, well-loaded tables, eating, drinking, 
talking or reading newspapers, waited upon by the live- 
liest, busiest waiters I had ever seen — and there was such 
an activity and bustle about everything that I wished I 
could join in it, it seemed so hard to sit still. But I had 
to content myself with looking on with the others, while 
the friendly gentleman whose acquaintance my mother 
had made (I do not recollect his name) assisted her in ob- 
taining our tickets for Eidtkunen, and attending to every- 
thing else that needed attention, and there were many 
things. 

Soon the fifteen minutes were up, our kind fellow-pas- 
senger and his daughter bade us farewell and a pleasant 
journey (we were just on the brink of the beginning of 
our troubles), the train pufifed out of the depot and we all 
felt we were nearing a very important stage in our jour- 
ney. At this time, cholera was raging in Russia, and 
was spread by emigrants going to America in the coun- 
tries through which they travelled. To stop this danger, 



23 

measures were taken to make emigration from Russia 
more difficult than ever. I believe that at all times the 
crossing of the boundary between Russia and Germany 
was a source of trouble to Russians, but with a special 
passport this was easily overcome. When, however, the 
traveller could not afford to supply himself with one, the 
boundary was crossed by stealth, and many amusing 
anecdotes are told of persons who crossed in some dis- 
guise, often that of a mujik who said he was going to the 
town on the German side to sell some goods, carried for 
the purpose of ensuring the success of the ruse. When 
several such tricks had been played on the guards it be- 
came very risky, and often, when caught, a traveller re- 
sorted to stratagem, which is very diverting when after- 
wards described, but not sO' at a time when much de- 
pends on its success. Some times a paltry bribe secured 
one a safe passage, and often emigrants were aided by 
men who made it their profession to help them cross, of- 
ten (sufifering themselves to be paid such sums for the 
service that it paid best to be provided with a special pass- 
port. 

As I said, the difficulties were greater at the time we 
were travelling, and our friends believed we had better 
not attempt a stealthy crossing, and we procured the 
necessary document to facilitate it. We therefore ex- 
pected little trouble, but some we thought there might be. 



24 

for we had heard some vag-ue rumors to the effect that 
a special passport was not as powerful an agent as it used 
to be. 

We now prepared to enjoy a little lunch, and before we 
had time to clear it away the train stopped, and we saw- 
several men in blue uniforms, gilt buttons and brass hel- 
mets, if you may call them so, on their heads. At his 
side each wore a kind of leather case attached to a wide 
bronze belt. In these cases they carried something like 
a revolver, and each had, besides, a little book with black 
oil-cloth covers. 

I can give you no idea of the impression these men 
(they were German gendarmes) made on us, by saying 
they frightened us. Perhaps because their (to us) im- 
pressive appearance gave them a stern look; perhaps be- 
cause they really looked something more than grave, we 
were so frightened. I only know that we were. I can 
see ihe reason now clearly enough. Like all persons 
who were used to the tyranny of a Russian policeman, 
who practically ruled the ward or town under his friend- 
ly protection, and never hesitated to assert his rights as 
holder of unlimited authority over his little domain, in 
that mild, amiable manner so well known to such of his 
subjects as he particularly favored with his vigilant re- 
gard — like all such persons, I say, we did not, could not, 
expect to receive any kind treatment at the hands of a 



25 

number of officers, especially as we were in the very act 
of attempting to part with our much-beloved mother 
country, of which act, to judge by the pains it took to 
make it difficult, the government did not approve. It 
was a natural fear in us, as you can easily see. Pretty 
soon mother recovered herself, and remembering that 
the train stops for a few minutes only, was beginning to 
put away the scattered articles hastily when a gendarme 
entered our car and said we were not to leave it. Mam- 
ma asked him why, but he said nothing and left the car, 
another gendarme entering as he did so. He demanded 
where we were going, and, hearing the answer, went out. 
Before we had had time to look about at each others 
frightened faces, another man, a doctor, as we soon knew, 
came in followed by a third gendarme. 

The doctor asked many questions about our health, 
and of what nationality we were. Then he asked about 
various things, as where we were going to, if we had 
tickets, how much money we had, where we came from, 
to whom we were going, etc., et-., making a note of every 
answer he received. This done, he shook his head with 
his shining helmet on it, and said slowly (I imagined he 
enjoyed frightening us), "With these third class tickets 
you cannot go to America now, because it is forbidden to 
admit emigrants into Germany who have not at least sec- 
ond class tickets. You will have to return to Russia 



26 

unless you pay at the office here to have your tickets 
changed for second class ones." After a few minutes' 
calculation and reference to the notes he had made, he 
added calmly, "I find you will need two hundred rubles 
to get your tickets exchanged;" and, as the finishing 
stroke to his pleasing communication, added, *' Your pass- 
ports are of no use at all now because the necessary part 
has to be torn out, whether you are allowed to pass or 
not." A plain, short speech he made of it, that cruel man. 
Yet every word sounded in our ears with an awful sound 
that stopped the beating of our hearts for a while — 
sounded Hke the ringing of funeral bells to us, and yet 
without the mournfully sweet music those bells make, 
that they might heal while they hurt. 

We were homeless, houseless, and friendless in a 
strange place. We had hardly money enough to last us 
through the voyage for which we had hoped and waited 
for three long years. We had suffered much that the 
reunion we longed for might come about; we had pre- 
pared ourselves to suffer more in order to bring it about, 
and had parted with those we loved, with places that were 
dear to us in spite of what we passed through in them, 
never again to see them, as we were convinced — all for 
the same dear end. With strong hopes and high spirits 
that hid the sad parting, we had started on our long jour- 
ney. And now we were checked so unexpectedly but 



27 

surely, the blow coming from where we little expected 
it, being, as we believed, safe in that quarter. And that 
is why the simple words had such a frightful meaning to 
us. We had received a wound we knew not how to heal. 

When mother had recovered enough to speak she be- 
gan to argue with the gendarme, telling him our story 
and begging him to be kind. The children were fright- 
ened by what they understood, and all but cried. I 
was only wondering what would happen, and wishing I 
could pour out my grief in tears, as the others did; but 
when I feel deeply I seldom show it in that way, and al- 
ways wish I could. 

Mother's supplications, and perhaps the children's in- 
direct ones, had more effect than I supposed they would. 
The officer was moved, even if he had just said that tears 
would not be accepted instead of money, and gave us 
such kind advice that I began to be sorry I had thought 
him cruel, for it was easy to see that he was only doing 
his duty and had no part in our trouble that he could be 
blamed for, now that I had more kindly thoughts of him. 

He said that we would now be taken to Keebart, a few 
versts' distance from Verzbolovo, where one Herr Schi- 
dorsky lived. This man, he said, was well known for 
miles around, and we were to tell him our story and ask 
him to help us, which he probably would, being very 
kind. 



A ray of hope shone on each of the frightened faces 
listening so attentively to this bearer of both evil and hap- 
py tidings. I, for one, was very confident that the good 
man w^ouid herp us through our difficulties, for I was 
most unwilling to believe that we really couldn't con- 
tinue our journey. Which of us was? I'd like to 
know. 

We are in Keebart, at the depot. The least important 
particular even of that place, I noticed and remembered. 
How the porter — he was an ugly, grinning man — carried 
in our things and put them away in the southern corner of 
the big room, on the floor: how we sat down on a settee 
near them, a yellow settee; how the glass roof let in so 
much light that we had to shade our eyes because the car 
had been dark and we had been crying; how there were 
only a few people besides ourselves there, and how I began 
to count them and stopped when I noticed a sign over the 
head of the fifth person — a little woman with a red nose 
and a pimple on it, that seemed to be staring at me as 
much as the grayish-blue eyes above them, it was so large 
and round — and tried to read the German, with the aid 
of the Russian translation below. I noticed all this and 
remembered it, as if there was nothing else in the world 
for me to think of — no America, no gendarme to destroy 
one's passports and speak of two hundred rubles as if he 
were a millionaire, no possibility of being sent back to 



29 

one's old home whether one felt at all grateful for the 
kindness or not — nothing but that most attractive of 
places, full of interesting sights. 

For, though I had been so hopeful a little while ago, I 
felt quite discouraged when a man, very sour and 
grumbling — and he was a Jew — a "Son of Mercy" as a 
certain song said — refused to tell mamma where Schi- 
. dorsky lived. I then believed that the whole world must 
have united against us; and decided tO' show my defiant 
indifference by leaving the world to be as unkind as it 
pleased, while I took no interest in such trifles. 

So I let my mind lose itself in a queer sort of mist — a 
something I cannot describe except by saying it must 
have been made up of lazy inactivity. Through this mist 
I saw and heard indistinctly much that followed. 

When I think of it now, I see how selfish it was to al- 
low myself to sink, body and mind, in such a sea of help- 
less laziness, when I might have done something besides 
awaiting the end of that critical time, whatever it might 
be — something, though what, I do not see even now, I 
own. But I only studied the many notices till I thought 
myself very well acquainted with the German tongue; 
and now and then tried to cheer the other children, who 
were still inclined to cry, by pointing out to them some 
of the things that interested me. For this faulty conduct 
I have no excuse to give, unless youth and the fact that I 



30 

was stunned with the shock we had just received, will be 
accepted. 

I remember through that mist that mother found 
Schidorsky's home at last, but was told she could not see 
him till a little later; that she came back to comfort us, 
and found there our former fellow passenger who had 
come with us from Vilna, and that he was very indignant 
at the way in which we were treated, and scolded, and de- 
clared he would have the matter in all the papers, and 
said we must be helped. I remember how mamma saw 
Schidorsky at last, spoke to him, and then told us, word 
for word, what his answer had been; that he wouldn't 
wait to be asked to use all his influence, and wouldn't lose 
a moment about it, and he didn't, for he went out at once 
on that errand, while his good daughter did her best to 
comfort mamma with kind words and tea. I remember 
that there was much going to the good man's house; 
much hurrying of special messengers to and from Eidt- 
kunen; trembHng inquiries, uncertain replies made hope- 
ful only by the pitying, encouraging words and manners 
of the deliverer — for all, even the servants, were kind as 
good angels at that place. I remember that another lit- 
tle family — there were three — were discovered by us in 
the same happy state as ourselves, and like the dogs in 
the fable, who, receiving care at the hands of a kind man, 
sent their friends to him for help, we sent them to our 
helper. 



31 

I remember seeing night come out of that mist, and 
bringing more trains and people and noise than the whole 
day (we still remained at the depot), till I felt sick and 
dizzy. I remember wondering what kind of a night it 
was, but not knowing how to find out, as if I had no 
senses. I remember that somebody said we were obliged 
to remain in Keebart that night and that we set out to 
find lodgings; that the most important things I saw on 
the way were the two largest dolls I had ever seen, car- 
ried by two pretty little girls, and a big, handsome fath- 
er; and a great deal of gravel in the streets, and boards 
for the crossings. I remember that we found a little 
room (we had to go up four steps first) that we could 
have for seventy-five copecks, with our tea paid for in 
that sum. I remember, through that mist, how I won- 
dered what I was sleeping on that night, as I wonder- 
ed about the weather; that we really woke up in the 
morning (I was so glad to rest I had believed we should 
never be disturbed again) and washed, and dressed and 
breakfasted and went to the depot again, to be always on 
hand. I remember that mamma and the father of the lit- 
tle family went at once to the only good man on earth (I 
thought so) and that the party of three were soon gone, 
by the help of some agent that was slower, for good rea- 
sons, in helping us. 

I remember that mamma came to us soon after and 



32 

said that Herr Schidorsky had told her to ask the Post- 
meister — some high official there — for a pass to Eidtkti- 
nen; and there she should speak herself to our protector's 
older brother who could help us by means of his great 
power among the officers of high rank; that she returned 
in a few hours and told us the two brothers were equal 
in kindness, for the older one, too, said he would not wait 
to be asked to do his best for us. I remember that an- 
other day — so-o-o long — passed behind the mist, and we 
were still in that dreadful, noisy, tiresome depot, with no 
change, till we went toi spend the night at Herr Schidor- 
sky's, because they wouldn't let us go anywhere else. On 
the way there, I remember, I saw something marvellous 
— queer little wooden sticks stuck on the lines where 
clothes hung for some purpose. (I didn't think it was 
for drying, because you know I always saw things hung 
up on fences and gates for such purposes. The queer 
things turned out to be clothes-pins). And, I remember, 
I noticed many other things of equal importance to our 
affairs, till we came to the littVe house in the garden. 
Here we were received, I remember with much kindness 
and hospitality. We had a fire made for us, food and 
drink brought in, and a servant was always inquiring 
whether anything more could be done for our comfort. 

I remember, still through that misty veil, what a pleas- 
ant evening we passed, talking over what had so far hap- 



33 

pened, and wondering what would cotne. I must have 
talked like one lost in a thick fog, groping carefully. But, 
had I been shut up, mentally, in a tower nothing else 
could pierce, the sense of gratitude that naturally sprung 
from the kindness that surrounded us, must have, would 
have found a passage for itself to the deepest cavities of 
the heart. Yes, though all my senses were dulled by 
what had passed over us so lately, I was yet aware of the 
deepest sense of thankfulness one can ever feel. I was 
aware of something like the sweet presence of angels in 
the persons of good Schidorsky and his family. Oh, that 
some knowledge of that gratitude might reach those for 
whom we felt it so keenly! We all felt it. But the deep- 
est emotions are so hard to express. I thought of this 
as I lay awake a little while, and sai^^ -!c myself, thinking 
of our benefactor, that he was a Jew, a true "Son of 
Mercy." And I slept with that thought. And this is 
the last I remember seeing and feeling behind that mist 
of lazy inactivity. 

The next morning, I woke not only from the night's- 
ileep, but from my waking dreaminess. All the vapors 
dispersed as I went into the pretty flower garden where 
the others were already at play, and by the time we had 
finished a good breakfast, served by a dear servant girU 
I felt quite myself again. 

Of course, mamma hastened to Herr Schidorsky as 



34 

soon as she could, and he sent her to the Postmeister 
again, to ask liini to return the part of our passports that 
had been torn out, and without which we could not go on. 
He said he would return them as soon as he received 
word from Eidtkunen. So we could only wait and hope. 
At last it came and so suddenly that we ran off to the de- 
pot with hardly a hat on all our heads, or a coat on our 
backs, with two men running behind with our things, 
making it a very ridiculous sight. We have often laugh- 
ed over it since. 

Of course, in such a confusion we could not say even 
one word of farewell or thanks to our deliverers. But, 
turning to see that we were all there, I saw them standing 
in the gate, crying that all was well now, and wishing us 
many pleasant things, and looking as if they had been 
receiving all the blessings instead of us. 

I have often thought they must have purposely ar- 
ranged it that we should have to leave in a hurry, because 
they wouldn't stand any expression of gratefulness. 

Well, we just reached our car in time to see our bag- 
gage brought from the office and ourselves inside, when 
the last bell rang. Then, before we could get breath 
enough to utter more than faint gasps of delight, we weie 
-again in Eidtkunen. 

The gendarmes came to question us again, but when 
mother said that we were going to Herr Schidorsky of 



35 

Eidtkiinen, as she had been told to say, we were allowed 
to leave the train. I really thought we were to be the 
visitors of the elder Schidorsky, but it turned out to be 
only an understanding between him and the officers that 
those claiming to be on their way to him were not to be 
troubled. 

At any rate, we had now really crossed the forbidden 
boundary — we were in Germany. 

There was a terrible confusion in the baggage-room 
where we were directed to go. Boxes, baskets, bags, 
valises, and great, shapeless things belonging to no par- 
ticular class were thrown about by porters and other men, 
who sorted them and put tickets on all but those con- 
taining provisions, while others were opened and examixi- 
ed in haste. At last our turn came, and our things, along 
with those of all other American-bound travellers, were 
taken away to be steamed and smoked and other such 
processes gone through. We were told to wait till no- 
tice should be given us of something else to be done. Our 
train would not depart till nine in the evening. 

As usual, I noticed all the little particulars of the wait- 
ing room. What else could I do with so much time and 
not even a book to read? I could describe it exactly — 
the large, square room, painted walls, long tables with 
fruits and drinks of all kinds covering them, the white 
chairs, carved settees, beautiful china and cut glass y%ow- 



36 

ing through the glass doors of the dressers, and the nick- 
el samovar, which attracted my attention because I had 
never seen any but copper or brass ones. The best and 
the worst of everything there was a large case full of 
books. It was the best, because they were ''books" and 
all could use them; the worst, because they were all Ger- 
man, and my studies in the railway depot of Keebart had 
not taught me so much that I should be able to read 
books in German. It was very hard to see people get 
those books and enjoy them while I couldn't. It was 
impossible to be content with other people's pleasure, 
and I wasn't. 

When I had almost finished counting the books, I no- 
ticed that mamma and the others had made friends with 
a family of travellers like ourselves. Frau Gittleman and 
her five children made very interesting companions for 
the rest of the day, and they seemed to think that Frau 
Antin and the four younger Antins were just as interest- 
mg; perhaps excepting, in their minds, one of them who 
must have appeared rather uninteresting from a habit she 
had of looking about as if always expecting to make dis- 
coveries. 

But she was interested, if not interesting, enough when 
the oldest of the young Gittlemans, who was a young 
gentleman of seventeen, produced some books which she 
could read. Then all had a merry time together, read- 



37 

ing, talking, telling the various adventures of the journey, 
and walking, as far as we were allowed, up and down the 
long platform outside, till we were called to go and see, if 
we wanted to see, how our things were being made fit for 
further travel. It was interesting to see how they man- 
aged to have anything left to return to us, after all the 
processes of airing and smoking and steamiiig and other 
assaults on supposed germs of the dreaded cholera had 
been done with, the pillows, even, being ripped open to 
be steamed! All this was interesting, but we were rather 
disagreeably surprised when a bill for these unasked-for 
services had to be paid. 

The Gittlemans, we found, were to keep us company 
for some time. At the expected hour we all tried to find 
room in a car indicated by the conductor. We tried, but 
could only find enough space on the floor for our bag- 
gage, on which we made believe sitting comfortably. For 
now we were obliged to exchange the comparative com- 
forts of a third class passenger train for the certain dis- 
comforts of a fourth class one. There were only four 
narrow benches in the whole car, and about twice as 
many people were already seated on these as they were 
probably supposed to accommodate. All other space, 
to the last inch, was crowded by passengers or their lug- 
gage. It was very hot and close and altogether uncom- 
fortable, and still at every new station fresh passengers 



38 

came crowding in, and actually made room, spare as it 
was, for themselves. It became so terrible that all glared 
madly at the conductor as he allowed more people to 
come into that prison, and trembled at the announcement 
of every station. I cannot see even now^ how the officers 
could allow such a thing; it was really dangerous. The 
most remarkable thing was the good-nature of the poor 
passengers. Few showed a sour face even; not a man 
used any strong language (audibly, at least). They 
smiled at each other as if they meant to say, "I am having 
a good time; so are you, aren't you?" Young Gittleman 
was very gallant, and so cheerful that he attracted every- 
body's attention. He told stories, laughed, and made us 
unwilling to be outdone. During one of his narratives 
he produced a pretty memorandum book that pleased one 
of us very much, and that pleasing gentleman at once 
presented it to her. She has kept it since in memory of 
the giver, and, in the right place, I could tell more about 
that matter — very interesting. 

I have given so much space to the description of that 
one night's adventures because I remember it so distinct- 
ly, with all its discomforts, and the contrast of our fellow- 
travellers' kindly dispositions. At length that dreadful 
night passed, and at dawn about half the passengers left, 
all at once. There was such a sigh of reHef and a stretch- 
ing of cramped limbs as can only be imagined, as the re- 



39 

maining passengers inhaled the fresh cold air of dewy 
dawn. It was almost worth the previous suffering to ex- 
perience the pleasure of relief that followed. 

All day long we travelled in the same train, sleeping, 
resting, eating, and v/ishing to get out. But the train 
stopped for a very short time at the many stations, and all 
the difference that made to us was that pretty girls pass- 
ed through the cars with little bark baskets filled with 
fruit and flowers hardly fresher or prettier than their 
bearers, who generally sold something to our young 
companion, lor he never wearied of entertaining us. 

Other interests there were none. The scenery was 
nothing unusual, only towns, depots, roads, fields, little 
country houses with barns and cattle and poultry — all 
such as we were well acquainted with. If something new 
did appear, it was passed before one could get a good 
look at it. The most pleasing sights were little barefoot 
children waving their aprons or hats as we eagerly 
watched for them, because that reminded us of our do- 
ing the same thing when we saw the passenger trains, in 
the country. We used to wonder whether we should 
ever do so agam. 

Towards evening we came into Berlin. I grow dizzy 
even now when I think of our whirling through that 
city. It seemed we were going faster and faster all the 
time, but it was only the whirl of trains passing in oppo- 



40 

site directions and close to us that made it seem so. The 
sight of crowds of people such as we had never seen be- 
fore, hurrying to and fro, in and out of great depots that 
danced past us, helped to make it more so. Strange 
sights, splendid buildings, shops, people and animals, all 
mingled in one great, confused mass of a disposition to 
continually move in a great hurry, wildly, with no other 
aim but to make one's head go round and round, in fol- 
lowing its dreadful motions. Round and round went my 
head. It was nothing but trains, depots, crowds — 
crowds, depots, trains, again and again, with no begin- 
ning, no end, only a mad dance! Faster and faster we 
go, faster still, and the noise increases with the speed. 
Bells, whistles, hammers, locomotives shrieking madly, 
men's voices, peddlers' cries, horses' hoofs, dogs' barking 
• — all united in doing their best to drown every other 
souiad but their own, and made such a deafening uproar 
in the attempt that nothing could keep it out. Whirl, 
noise, dance, uproar — will it last forever? I'm so — o 
diz-z-zy! How my head aches! 

And oh! those people will be run over! Stop the train, 
they'll — thank goodness, nobody is hurt. But who ever 
heard of a train passing right through the middle of a 
city, up in the air, it seems. Oh, dear! it's no use think- 
ing, my head spins so. Right through the business 
streets! Why, who ever — ! 



41 

I must have lived through a century of this terrible 
motion and din and unheard of roads for trains, and con- 
fused thinking. But at length everything began to take 
a more familiar appearance again, the noise grew less, the 
roads more secluded, and by degrees we recognized the 
^^ dear, peaceful country. Now we could think of Berlin, 

* or rather, what we had seen of it, more calmly, and won- 
der why it made such an impression. I see now. We 

, had never seen so large a city before, and were not pre- 
pared to see such sights, bursting upon us so suddenly 
as that. It was like allowing a blind man to see the full 
glare of the sun all at once. Our little Plotzk, and 
even the larger cities we had passed through, compared 
to Berlin about the same as total darkness does to great 
brilliancy of light. 

In a great lonely field opposite a solitary wooden house 
within a large yard, our train pulled up at last, and a con- 
ductor commanded the passengers to make haste and get 
out. He need not have told us to hurry; we were glad 
enough to be free again after such a long imprisonment 
in the uncomfortable car. All rushed to the door. We 
breathed more freely in the open field, but the conductor 
did not wait for us to enjoy our freedom. He hurried us 
into the one large room which made up the house, and 
then into the yard. Here a great many men and women, 
dressed in white, received us, the women attending to the 



42 

women and girls of the passengers, and the men to the 
others. 

This was another scene of bewildering confusion, pa- 
rents losing their children, and Httle ones crying; bag- 
gage being thrown together in one corner of the yard, 
heedless of contents, which suffered in consequence; 
those white-clad Germans shouting commands always ac- 
companied with "Quick! Quick!"; the confused passen- 
gers obeying all orders like meek children, only question- 
ing now and then what was going to be done with them. 

And no wonder if in some minds stories arose of peo- 
ple being captured by robbers, murderers, and the like. 
Here we had been taken to a lonely place where only that 
house was to be seen; our things were taken away, our 
friends separated from us; a man came to inspect us, as if 
to ascertain our full value; strange looking people driv- 
ing us about like dumb animals, helpless and unresisting; 
children we could not see, crying in a way that suggested 
terrible things; ourselves driven into a little room where 
a great kettle was boiling on a little stove; our clothes 
taken off, our bodies rubbed with a slippery substance 
that might be any bad thing; a shower of warm water let 
down on us without warning; again driven to another 
little room where we sit, wrapped in woollen blankets till 
large, coarse bags are brought in, their contents turned 
out and we see only a cloud of steam, and hear the 



43 

women's orders to dress ourselves, quick, quick, or else 
we'll miss — something we cannot hear. We are forced 
to pick out our clothes from among all the others, with 
the steam blinding- us; we choke, cough, entreat the 
women to give us time; they persist, "Quick, quick, or 
you'll miss the train !" Oh, so we really won't be mur- 
dered! They are only makmg us ready for the continu- 
ing of our journey, cleaning us of all suspicions of dan- 
gerous germs. Thank God! 

Assured by the word "train" we manage to dress our- 
selves after a fashion, and the man comes again to inspect 
us. All is right, and we are allowed to go into the yard 
to find our friends and our luggage. Both are difficult 
tasks, the second even harder. Imagine all the things of 
some hundreds of people making a journey like ours, be- 
ing mostly unpacked and mixed together in one sad heap. 
It was disheartening, but done at last was the task of col- 
lecting our belongings, and we were marched into the 
big room again. Here, on the bare floor, in a ring, sat 
some Polish men and women singing some hymn in their 
own tongue, and making more noise than music. We 
were obliged to stand and await further orders, the few 
seats being occupied, and the great door barred and lock- 
ed. We were in a prison, and again felt some doubts. 
Then a man came in and called the passengers' names> 
and when they answered they were made to pay two 



44 

marcs each for the pleasant bath we had just been forced 
to take. 

Another half hour, and our train arrived. The door 
was opened, and we rushed out into the field, glad to get 
back even to the fourth class car. 

We had lost sight of the Gittlemans, who were going a 
different way now, and to our regret hadn't even said 
good-bye, or thanked them for their kindness. 

After the preceding night of wakefulness and discom- 
fort, the weary day in the train, the dizzy whirl through 
Berlin, the fright we had from the rough proceedings of 
the Germans, and all the strange experiences of the place 
we just escaped — after all this we needed rest. But to 
get it was impossible for all but the youngest children. If 
we had borne great discomforts on the night before, we 
were suffering now. I had thought anything worse im- 
possible. Worse it was now. The car was even more 
crowded, and people gasped for breath. People sat in 
strangers' laps, only glad of that. The floor was so 
thickly lined that the conductor could not pass, and the 
tickets were passed to him from hand to hand. To-night 
all were more worn out, and that did not mend their di? 
positions. They could not help falling asleep and collid- 
ing with someone's nodding head, which called out an- 
gry mutterings and growls. Some fell off their seats and 
caused a great commotion by rolling over on the sleepers 



45 

on the floor, and, in spite of my own sleepiness and weari- 
ness, I had many quiet laughs by myself as I watched the 
funny actions of the poor travellers. 

Not until \ery late did I fall asleep. I, with the rest, 
missed the pleasant company of our friends, the Gittle- 
mans, and thought about them as I sat perched on a box, 
with an old man's knees for the back of my seat, anoth- 
er man's head continually striking^ my right shoulder, a 
dozen or so arms being tossed restlessly right in front of 
my face, and as many legs holding me a fast prisoner, 
so that I could only try to keep my seat against all the as- 
saults of the sleepers who tried in vain to make their po- 
sitions more comfortable. It was all so comical, in spite 
of all the inconveniences, that I tried hard not to laugh 
out loud, till I too fell asleep. I was awakened very early 
in the morning by something chilling and uncomfortable 
on my face, like raindrops coming down irregularly. I 
found it was a neighbor of mine eating cheese, who was 
dropping bits on my face. So I began the day with a 
laugh at the man's funny apologies, but could not find 
much more fun in the world on account of the cold and 
the pain of every limb. It was very miserable, till some 
breakfast cheered me up a little. 

About eight o'clock we reached Hamburg. Again 
there was a gendarme to ask questions, look over the 
tickets and give directions. But all the time he kept a 



46 

distance from those passengers who came from Russia, 
all for fear of the cholera. We had noticed before how 
people were afraid to come near us, but since that mem- 
orable bath in Berlin, and all the steaming and smoking 
of our things, it seemed unnecessary. 

We were marched up to the strangest sort of vehicle 
one could think of. It was a something I don't know 
any name for, though a little like an express wagon. At 
that time I had never seen such a high, narrow, long 
thing, so high that the women and girls couldn't climb 
up without the men's help, and great difficulty; so nar- 
row that two persons could not sit comfortably side by 
side, and so long that it took me some time to move my 
eyes from the rear end, where the baggage was, to the 
front, where the driver sat. 

When all had settled down at last (there were a number 
besides ourselves) the two horses started off very fast, in 
spite of their heavy load. Through noisy, strange looking 
streets they took us, where many people walked or ran or 
rode. Many splendid houses, stone and brick, and 
showy shops, they passed. Much that was very strange 
to us we saw, and little we knew anything about. There 
a little cart loaded with bottles or tin cans, drawn by a 
goat or a dog, sometimes two, attracted our attention. 
Sometimes it was only a nurse carrying a child in her 
arms that seemed interesting, from the strange dress. Of- 



47 

ten it was some article displayed in a shop window or 
door, or the usually smiling owner standing in the door- 
way, that called for our notice. Not that there was any- 
thing really unusual in many of these things, but a certain 
air of foreignness, which sometimes was very vague, sur- 
rounded everything that passed before our interested 
gaze as the horses hastened on. 

The strangest sight of all we saw as we came into the 
still noisier streets. Something Hke a horse-car such as 
we had seen in Vilna for the first time, except that it was 
open on both sides (in most cases) but without any 
horses, came flying — really flying — past us. For we 
stared and looked it all over, and above, and under, and 
rubbed our eyes, and asked of one another what we saw, 
and nobody could find what it was that made the thing 
go. And go it did, one after another, faster than we, 
with nothing to move it. *'Why, what that?" we 
kept exclaiming. "Really, do you see anything that 
makes it go? Fm sure I don't." Then I ventured the 
highly probable suggestion, 'Terhaps it's the fat man in 
the gray coat and hat with silver buttons. I guess he 
pushes it. I've noticed one in front on every one of them, 
holding on to that shining thing." And I'm sure this 
was as wise a solution of the mystery as anyone could 
give, except the driver, who laughed to himself and his 
horses over our surprise and wonder at nothing he could 
see to cause it. 



48 

But we couldn't understand his explanation, though 
we always got along very easily with the Germans, and 
not until much later did we know that those wonderful 
things, with only a fat man to move them, were electric 
cars. 

The sight-seeing was not all on our side. I noticed 
many people stopping to look at us as if amused, though 
most passed by as though used to such sights. We did 
make a queer appearance all in a long row, up above peo- 
ple's heads. In fact, we looked like a flock of giant fowls 
roosting, only wide awake. 

Suddenly, when everything interesting seemed at an 
end, we all recollected how long it was since we had start- 
ed on our funny ride. Hours, we thought, and still the 
horses ran. Now we rode through quieter streets where 
there were fewer shops and more wooden houses. Still the 
horses seemed to have but just started. I looked over 
our perch again. Something made me think of a de- 
scription 1 had read of criminals being carried on long 
journeys in uncomfortable things — like this? Well, it 
was strange — this long, long drive, the conveyance, no 
word of explanation, and all, though going different ways, 
being packed off together. We were strangers; the 
driver knew it. He might take us anywhere — how could 
we tell ? I was frightened again as in Berlin. The faces 
around me confessed the same. 



49 

The streets became quieter still; no shops, only little 
houses; hardly any people passing. Now we cross many 
railway tracks and I can hear the sea not very distant. 
There are many trees now by the roadside, and the wind 
whistles through their branches. The wheels and hoofs 
make a great noise on the stones, the roar of the sea and 
the wind among the branches have an unfriendly sound. 

The horses never weary. Still they run. There are 
no houses now in view, save now and then a solitary one, 
far away. I can see the ocean. Oh, it is stormy. The dark 
waves roll inward, the white foam flies high in the air; 
deep sounds come from it. The wheels and hoofs make a 
great noise; the wind is stronger, and says, "Do you hear 
the sea?" And the ocean's roar threatens. The sea 
threatens, and the wind bids me hear it, and the hoofs and 
the wheels repeat the command, and so do the trees, by 
gestures. 

Yes, we are frightened. We are very still. Some Polish 
women over there have fallen asleep, and the rest of us 
look such a picture of woe, and yet so funny, it is a sight 
to see and remember. 

At last, at last! Those unwearied horses have stopped. 
Where? In front of a brick building, the only one on a 
large, broad street, where only the trees, and, in the dis- 
tance, the passing trains can be seen. Nothing else. The 
ocean, too, is shut out. 



50 

All were helped off, the bag^ag-e put on the sidewalk, 
and then taken up again and carried into the building, 
where the passengers were ordered to go. On the left 
side of the little corridor was a small ofifice where a man 
sat before a desk covered with papers. These he pushed 
aside when we entered, and called us in one by one, ex- 
cept, of course children. As usual, many questions were 
asked, the new ones being about our tickets. Then each 
person, children included, had to pay three marcs — one 
for the wagon that brought us over and two for food and 
lodgings, till our various ships should take us away. 

Mamma, having five to pay for, owed fifteen marcs. 
The little sum we started with was to last us to the end of 
the journey, and would have done so if there hadn't been 
those unexpected bills to pay at Keebart, Eidtkunen, Ber- 
lin, and now at the ofHce. Seeing how often services were 
forced upon us unasked and payment afterwards de- 
manded, mother had begun to fear that we should need 
more money, and had sold some things to a woman for 
less than a third of their value. In spite of that, so heavy 
was the drain on the spare purse where it had not been 
expected, she found to her dismay that she had only 
twelve marcs left to meet the new bill. 

The man in the ofifice wouldn't believe it, and we were 
given over in charge of a woman in a dark gray dress and 
long white apron, with a red cross on her right arm. She 



51 

led us away and thoroughly searched us all, as well as our 
baggage. That was nice treatment, like what we had 
been receiving since our first uninterrupted entrance into 
Germany. Always a call for money, always suspicion of 
our presence and always rough orders and scowls of dis- 
approval, even at the quickest obedience. And now this 
outrageous indignity! We had to bear it all because we 
were going to America from a land cursed by the dread- 
ful epidemic. Others besides ourselves shared these 
trials, the last one included, if that were any comfort, 
which it was not. 

When the woman reported the result of the search as 
being fruitless, the man was satisfied, and we were or- 
dered with the rest through many more examinations and 
ceremonies before we should be established under the 
quarantine, for that it was. 

While waiting for our turn to be examined by the doc- 
tor I looked about, thinking it worth while tO' get ac- 
quainted with a place where we might be obliged to stay 
for I knew not how long. The room v/here we were sit- 
ting was large, with windows so high up that we couldn't 
see anything through them. In the middle stood several 
long wooden tables, and around these were settees of the 
same kind. On the right, opposite the doctor's office, 
was a little room where various things could be bought 
of a young man — if you hadn't paid all your money for 
other things. 



52 

When the doctor was through with us he told us to go 
to Number Five. Now wasn't that hke in a prison? We 
walked up and down a long yard looking, among a row 
of low, numbered doors, for ours, when we heard an ex- 
clamation of, "Oh, Esther! how do you happen to be 
here?" and, on seeing the speaker, found it to be an old 
friend of ours from P lotzk. She had gone long before 
us, but her ship hadn't arrived yet. She was surprised 
to see us because we had had no intention of going when 
she went. 

What a comfort it was to find a friend among all the 
strangers! She showed us at once to our new quarters, 
and while she talked to mamma I had time to see what 
they were like. 

It looked something like a hospital, only less clean and 
comfortable; more like the soldiers' barracks I had seen. 
I saw a very large room, around whose walls were ranged 
rows of high iron double bedsteads, with coarse sacks 
stuffed with something like matting, and not over-clean 
blankets for the only bedding, except where people used 
their own. There were three windows almost touching the 
roof, with nails covering all the framework. From the 
ceiling hung two round gas lamps, and almost under 
them stood a little wooden table and a settee. The floor 
was of stone. 

Here was a pleasant prospect. We had no idea how 
long this unattractive place might be our home. 



53 

Our friend explained that Number Five was only for 
Jewish women and girls, and the beds were sleeping 
rooms, dining rooms, parlors, and everything else, kitch- 
ens excepted. It seemed so, for some were lounging on 
the beds, some sitting up, some otherwise engaged, and 
all were talking and laughing and making a great noise. 
Poor things! there was nothing else to do in that prison. 

Before mother had told our friend of our adventures, 
a girl, also a passenger, who had been walking in the yard, 
ran in and announced, "It's time to go to dinner! He 
has come already." ''He" we soon learned, was the over- 
seer of the Jewish special kitchen, without whom the 
meals were never taken. 

All the inmates of Number Five rushed out in less than 
a minute, and I wondered why they hurried so. When 
we reached the place that served as dining room, there 
was hardly any room for us. Now, while the dinner is 
being served, I will tell you what I can see. 

In the middle of the yard stood a number of long tables 
covered with white oilcloth. On either side of each table 
stood benches on which all the Jewish passengers were 
now seated, looking impatiently at the door with the sign 
''Jewish Kitchen" over it. Pretty soon a man appeared 
in the doorway, tall, spare, with a thin, pointed beard, and 
an air of importance on his face. It was "he", the over- 
seer, who carried a large tin pail filled with black bread 



54 

cut into pieces of half a pound each. He gave a piece to 
every person, the youngest child and the biggest man 
alike, and then went into the kitchen and filled his pail 
with soup and meat, giving everybody a great bowl full 
of soup and a small piece of meat. All attacked their 
rations as soon as they received them and greatly relished 
the coarse bread and dark, hot water they called soup. 
We couldn't eat those things and only wondered how 
any one could have such an appetite for such a dinner. 
We stopped wondering when our own little store of pro- 
visions gave out. 

After dinner, the people went apart, some going back 
to their beds and others to walk in the yard or sit on the 
settees there. There was no other place to go to. The 
doors of the prison were never unlocked except when new 
passengers arrived or others left for their ships. The 
fences — they really were solid walls — had wires and nails 
on top, so that one couldn't even climb to get a look at 
the sea. 

We went back to our quarters to talk over matters and 
rest from our journey. At six o'clock the doctor came 
with a clerk, and, standing before the door, bade all those 
in the yard belonging to Number Five assemble there; 
and then the roll was called and everybody received a lit- 
tle ticket as she answered to her name. With this all 
went to the kitchen and received two little rolls and a 



55 

large cup of partly sweetened tea. This was supper; and 
breakfast, served too in this way was the same. Any 
wonder that people hurried to dinner and enjoyed it? 
And it was always the same thing, no change. 

Little by little we became used to the new life, though 
it was hard to go hungry day after day, and bear the dis- 
comforts of the common room, shared by so many; the 
hard beds (we had little bedding of our own), and the con- 
finement to the narrow limits of the yard, and the tire- 
some sameness of the life. Meal hours, of course, played 
the most important part, while the others had to be filled 
up as best we could. The weather was fine most of the 
time and that helped much. Everything was an event, 
the arrival of fresh passengers a great one which hap- 
pened every day; the day when the women were allowed 
to wash clothes by the well was a holiday, and the few 
favorite girls who were allowed tO' help in the kitchen 
were envied. On dull, rainy days, the man coming to 
light the lamps at night was an object of pleasure, and 
every one made the best of everybody else. So when a 
young man arrived who had been to America once be- 
fore, he was looked up to by every person there as a supe- 
rior, his stories of our future home listened to with de- 
light, and his manners imitated by all, as a sort of fit prep- 
aration. He was wanted everywhere, and he made the 
best of his greatness by taking liberties and putting on 



56 

great airs and, I afterwards found, imposing on our ig- 
norance very much. But anything "The American" 
did passed for good, except his going away a few days too 
soon. 

Then a girl came who was rather wanting a Httle 
brightness. So all joined in imposing upon her by tell- 
ing her a certain young man was a great professor whom 
all owed respect and homage to, and she would do any- 
thing in the world to express hers, while he used her to 
his best advantage, like the willing slave she was. No- 
body seemed to think this unkind at all, and it really was 
excusable that the poor prisoners, hungry for some enter- 
tainment, should try to make a little fun when the chance 
came. Besides, the girl had opened the temptation by 
asking, "Who was the handsome man in the glasses? A 
professor surely;" showing that she took glasses for a 
sure sign of a professor, and professor for the highest pos- 
sible title of honor. Doesn't this excuse us? 

The greatest event was the arrival of some ship to take 
some of the waiting passengers. When the gates were 
opened and the lucky ones said good bye, those left be- 
hind felt hopeless of ever seeing the gates open for them. 
It was both pleasant and painful, for the strangers grew 
to be fast friends in a day and really rejoiced in each oth- 
er's fortune, but the regretful envy could not be helped 
either. 



57 

Amid such events as these a day was Hke a month at 
least. Eight of these we had spent in quarantine when a 
great commotion was noticed among the people of Num- 
ber Five and those of the corresponding number in the 
men's division. There was a good reason for it. You re- 
member that it was April and Passover was coming on; 
in fact, it began that night. The great question was, 
Would we be able to keep it exactly according to the host 
of rules to be obeyed? You who know all about the great 
holiday can understand what the answer to that question 
meant to us. Think of all the work and care and money 
it takes to supply a family with all the things proper and 
necessary, and you will see that to supply a few hundred 
was no small matter. Now, were they going to take care 
that all was perfectly right, and could we trust them if 
they promised, or should we be forced to break any of the 
laws that ruled the holiday? 

All day long there was talking and questioning and de- 
bating and threatening that 'Sve would rather starve than 
touch anything we were not sure of." And we meant it. 
So some men and women went to the overseer to let him 
know what he had to look out for. He assured them that 
he would rather starve along with us than allow anything 
to be in the least wrong. Still, there was more discussing 
and shaking of heads, for they were not sure yet. 

There was not a crumb anywhere to be found, because 



S8 

what bread we received was too precious for any of it to 
be wasted; but the women made a great show of cleaning 
up Number Five, while they sighed and looked sad and 
told one another of the good hard times they had at home 
getting ready for Passover. Really, hard as it is, when 
one is used to it from childhood, it seems part of the holi- 
day, and can't be left out. To sit down and wait for sup- 
per as on other nights seemed like breaking one of the 
laws. So they tried hard to be busy. 

At night we were called by the overseer (who tried to 
look more important than ever in his holiday clothes — 
not his best, though) to the feast spread in one of the un- 
occupied rooms. We were ready for it, and anxious 
enough. We had had neither bread nor matzo for din- 
ner, and were more hungry than ever, if that is possible. 
We now found everything really prepared; there were the 
pillows covered with a snow-white spread, new oilcloth 
on the newly scrubbed tables, some little candles stuck in 
a basin of sand on the window-sill for the women, and — 
a sure sign of a holiday — both gas lamps burning. Only 
one was used on other nights. 

Happy to see these things, and smell the supper, we 
took our places and waited. Soon the cook came in and 
filled some glasses with wine from two bottles, — one yel- 
low, one red. Then she gave to each person — exactly one 
and a half matzos; also some cold meat, burned almost to 
a coal for the occasion. 



59 

The young man — bless him — who had the honor to 
perform the ceremonies, was, fortunately for us all, one of 
the passengers. He felt for and with us, and it happened 
— ^^just a coincidence — that the greater part of the cere- 
mony escaped from his book as he turned the leaves. 
Though strictly religious, nobody felt in the least guilty 
about it, especially on account of the wine; for, when we 
came to the place where you have to drink the wine, we 
found it tasted like good vinegar, which made us all 
choke and gasp, and one little girl screamed "Poison!" 
so that all laughed, and the leader, who tried to go on, 
broke down too at the sight of the wry faces he saw ; 
while the overseer looked shocked, the cook nearly set 
her gown on fire by overthrowing the candles with her 
apron(used to hide her face) and all wished our Master 
Overseer had to drink that ''wine" all his days. 

Think of the same ceremony as it is at home, then of 
this one just described. Do they even resemble each 
other? 

Well, the leader got through amid much giggling and 
sly looks among the girls who understood the trick, and 
frowns of the older people (who secretly blessed him for 
it). Then, half hungry, all went to bed and dreamed of 
food in plenty. 

No other dreams? Rather! For the day that brought 
the Passover brought us — our own family — the most glo- 



6o 

rious news. We had been ordered to bring our baggage 
to the office ! 

"Ordered to bring our baggage to the office !" That 
meant nothing less than that we were "going the next 
day!" 

It was just after supper that we received the welcome 
order. Oh, who cared if there wasn't enough to eat? 
Who cared for anything in the whole world? We didn't. 
It was all joy and gladness and happy anticipation for us. 
We laughed, and cried, and hugged one another, and 
shouted, and acted altogether like wild things. Yes, we 
were wild with joy, and long after the rest were asleep, we 
were whispering together and wondering how we could 
keep quiet the whole night. We couldn't sleep by any 
means, we were so afraid of oversleeping the great hour; 
and every little while, after we tried to sleep, one of us 
would suddenly think she saw day at the window, and 
wake the rest, who also had only been pretending to sleep 
while watching in the dark for daylight. 

When it came, it found no watchful eye, after all. The 
excitement gave way to fatigue, and drowsiness first, then 
deep sleep, completed its victory. It was eight o'clock 
when we awoke. The morning was cloudy and chilly, 
the sun being too lazy to attend to business; now and 
then it rained a little, too. And yet it was the most beau- 
tiful day that had ever dawned on Hamburg. 



6i 

We enjoyed everything offered for breakfast, two mat- 
zos and two cups of tea apiece — why it was a banquet. 
After it came the good-byes, as we were going soon. As 
I told you before, the strangers became fast friends in a 
short time under the circumstances, so there was real sor- 
row at the partings, though the joy of the fortunate ones 
was, in a measure, shared by all. 

About one o'clock (we didn't go to dinner — we 
couldn't eat for excitement) we were called. There were 
three other families, an old woman, and a young man, 
among the Jewish passengers, who were going with us, 
besides some Polish people. We were all hurried 
through the door we had watched with longing for so 
long, and were a little way from it when the old woman 
stopped short and called on the rest to wait. 

"We haven't any matzo !" she cried in alarm. "Where's 
the overseer?" 

Sure enough we had forgotten it, when we might as 
well have left one of us behind. We refused to go, call- 
ing for the overseer, who had promised to supply us, and 
the man who had us in charge grew angry and said he 
wouldn't wait. It was a terrible situation for us. 

"Oh," said the man, "you can go and get your matzo, 
but the boat won't wait for you." And he walked off, fol- 
lowed by the Polish people only. 

We had to decide at once. We looked at the old wo- 



62 

man. She said she wasn't going to start on a dangerous 
journey with such a sin on her soul. Then the children 
decided. They understood the matter. They cried and 
begged to follow the party. And we did. 

Just when we reached the shore, the cook came up 
panting hard. She brought us matzo. How relieved we 
were then! 

We got on a little steamer (the name is too big for it) 
that was managed by our conductor alone. Before we 
had recovered from the shock of the shrill whistle so near 
us, we were landing in front of a large stone building. 

Once more we were under the command of the gen- 
darme. We were ordered to go into a big room crowded 
with people, and wait till the name of our ship was called. 
Somebody in a little room called a great many queer 
names, and many passengers answered the call. At last 
we heard, "Polynesia!" 

We passed in and a great many things were done to our 
tickets before we were directed to go outside, then to a 
larger steamer than the one we came in. At every step 
our tickets were either stamped or punched, or a piece 
torn off of them, till we stepped upon the steamer's deck. 
Then we were ordered below. It was dark there, and we 
didn't like it. In a little while we were called up again, 
and then we saw before us the great ship that was to carry 
us to America. 



63 

I only remember, from that moment, that I had only- 
one care till all became quiet; not to lose hold of my sis- 
ter's hand. Everything^ else can be told in one word — 
noise. But when I look back, I can see what made it. 
There were sailorl" dragging and hauling bundles and 
boxes from the small boat into the great ship, shouting 
and thundering at their work. There were officers giv- 
ing out orders in loud voices, like trumpets, though they 
seemed to make no effort. There were children crying, 
and mothers hushing them, and fathers questioning the 
officers as to where they should go. There were little boats 
and steamers passing all around, shrieking and whis- 
tling terribly. And there seemed to be everything under 
heaven that had any noise in it, come to help swell the 
confusion of sounds. I know that, but how we ever got 
in that quiet place that had the sign 'Tor Families" over 
it, I don't know. I think we went around and around, 
long and far, before we got there. 

But there we were, sitting quietly on a bench by the 
white berths. 

When the sailors brought our things, we got every- 
thing in order for the journey as soon as possible, that we 
might go on deck to see the starting. But first we had to 
obey a sailor, who told us to come and get dishes. Each 
person received a plate, a spoon and a cup. I wondered 
how we could get along if we had had no things of our 
own. 



64 

For an hour or two more there were still many noises 
on deck, and many preparations made. Then we went 
up, as most of the passengers did. 

What a chanjg^e in the scene! Where there had been 
noise and confusion before, peace and quiet were now. 
All the little boats and steamers had disappeared, and the 
wharf was deserted. On deck the ''Polynesia" everything- 
was in good order, and the officers walked about smoking 
their cigars as if their work was done. Only a few sailors 
were at work at the big ropes, but they didn't shout as 
before. The weather had changed, too, for the twilight 
was unlike what the day had promised. The sky was 
soft gray, with faint streaks of yellow on the horizon. 
The air was still and pleasant, much warmer than it had 
been all the day; and the water was as motionless and 
clear as a deep, cool well, and everything was mirrored 
in it clearly. 

This entire change in the scene, the peace that encir- 
cled everything around us, seemed to give all the same 
feeling that I know I had. I fancied that nature created 
it especially for us, so that we would be allowed, in this 
pause, to think of our situation. All seemed to do so; all 
spoke in low voices, and seemed to be looking for some- 
thing as they gazed quietly into the smooth depths below, 
or the twilight skies above. Were they seeking an assur- 
ance? Perhaps; for there was something strange in the 



65 

absence of a crowd of friends on the shore, to cheer and 
salute, and fill the air with white clouds and last farewells. 

I found the assurance. The very stillness was a voice 
— nature's voice; and it spoke to the ocean and said, 

''I entrust to you this vessel. Take care of it, for it 
bears my children with it, from one strange shore to an- 
other more distant, where loving friends are waiting to 
embrace them after long partings. Be gentle with your 
charge." 

And the ocean, though seeming so still, replied, 

*'I will obey my mistress." 

I heard it all, and a feeling of safety and protection 
came to me. And when at last the wheels overhead be- 
gan to turn and clatter, and the ripples on the water told 
us that the "Polynesia" had started on her journey, which 
was not noticeable from any other sign, I felt only a sense 
of happiness. I mistrusted nothing. 

But the old woman who remembered the matzo did, 
more than anybody else. She made great preparations 
for being seasick, and poisoned the air with garlic and 
onions. 

When the lantern fixed in the ceiling had been lighted, 
the captain and the steward paid us a visit. They took 
up our tickets and noticed all the passengers, then left. 
Then a sailor brought supper — bread and coffee. Only 
a few ate it. Then all went to bed, though it was very 
early. 



66 

Nobody expected seasickness as soon as it seized us. 
All slept quietly the whole night, not knowing any differ- 
ence between being on land or at sea. About five o'clock 
I woke up, and then I felt and heard the sea. A very dis- 
agreeable smell came from it, and I knew it was disturbed 
by the rocking of the ship. Oh, how wretched it made 
us! From side to side it went rocking, rocking. Ugh! 
Many of the passengers are very sick indeed, they suffer 
terribly. We are all awake now, and wonder if we, too, 
will be so sick. Some children are crying, at intervals. 
There is nobody to comfort them — all are so miserable. 
Oh, I am so sick! I'm dizzy; everything is going round 
and round before my eyes — Oh-h-h! 

I can't even begin to tell of the suffering of the next 
few hours. Then I thought I would feel better if I could 
go on deck. Somehow, I got down (we had upper berths) 
and, supporting myself against the walls, I came on deck. 
But it was worse. The green water, tossing up the white 
foam, rocking all around, as far as I dared to look, was 
frightful to me then. So I crawled back as well as I could, 
and nobody else tried to go out. 

By and by the doctor and the steward came. The doc- 
tor asked each passenger if they were well, but only 
smiled when all begged for some medicine to take away 
the dreadful suffering. To those who suffered from any- 
thing besides seasickness he sent medicine and special 



67 

food later on. His companion appointed one of the men 
passengers for every twelve or fifteen to carry the meals 
from the kitchen, giving- them cards to get it with. For 
our group a young German was appointed, who was 
making the journey for the second time, with his mother 
and sister. We were great friends with them during the 
journey. 

The doctor went away soon, leaving the sufferers in the 
same sad condition. At twelve, a sailor announced that 
dinner was ready, and the man brought it — large tin pails 
and basins of soup, meat, cabbage, potatoes, and pudding 
(the last was allowed only once a week); and almost all of 
it was thrown away, as only a few men ate. The rest 
couldn't bear even the smell of food. It was the same with 
the supper at six o'clock. At three milk had been brought 
for the babies, and brown bread (a treat) with coffee for 
the rest. But after supper the daily allowance of fresh 
water v/as brought, and this soon disappeared and more 
called for, which was refused, although we lived on water 
alone for a week. 

At last the day was gone, and much we had borne in it. 
Night came, but brought little relief. Some did fall 
asleep, and forgot suffering for a few hours. I was awake 
late. The ship was quieter, and everything sadder than 
by daylight. I thought of all we had gone through till 
we had got on board the "Polynesia"; of the parting from 



68 

all friends and things we loved, forever, as far as we knew; 
of the strange experience at various strange places; of the 
kind friends who helped us, and the rough officers who 
commanded us; of the quarantine, the hunger, then the 
happy news, and the coming on board. Of all this I 
thought, and rememibered that we were far away from 
friends, and longed for them, that I might be made well 
by speaking to them. And every minute was making the 
distance between us greater, a meeting more impossible. 
Then I remembered why we were crossing the ocean, and 
knew that it was worth the price. At last the noise of the 
wheels overhead, and the dull roar of the sea, rocked me 
to sleep. 

For a short time only. The ship was tossed about more 
than the day before, and the great waves sounded like dis- 
tant thunder as they beat against it, and rolled across the 
deck and entered the cabin. We found, however, that 
we were better, though very weak. We managed to go 
on deck in the afternoon, when it was calm enough. A 
little band was playing, and a few young sailors and Ger- 
man girls tried even to dance; but it was impossible. 

As I sat in a corner where no waves could reach me, 
holding on to a rope, I tried to take in the grand scene. 
There was the mighty ocean I had heard of only, spread- 
ing out its rough breadth far, far around, its waves giving 
out deep, angry tones, and throwing up walls of spray 



69 

into the air. There was the sky, like the sea, full of 
ridges of darkest clouds, bending to meet the waves, and 
following their motions and frowning and threatening. 
And there was the 'Tolynesia" in the midst of this world 
of gloom, and anger, and distance. I saw these, but indis- 
tinctly, not half comprehending the wonderful picture. 
For the suffering had left me dull and tired out. I only 
knew that I was sad, and everybody else was the same. 

Another day gone, and we congratulate one another 
that seasickness lasted only one day with us. So we go 
to sleep. 

Oh, the sad mistake! For six days longer we remain 
in our berths, miserable and unable to eat. It is a long 
fast, hardly interrupted, during which we know that the 
weather is unchanged, the sky dark, the sea stormy. 

On the eighth day out we are again able to be about. I 
went around everywhere, exploring every corner, and 
learning much from the sailors; but I never remembered 
the names of the various things I asked about, they were 
so many, and some German names hard to learn. We all 
made friends with the captain and other ofhcers, and 
many of the passengers. The little band played regular- 
ly on certain days, and the sailors and girls had a good 
many dances, though often they were swept by a wave 
across the deck, quite out of time. The children were 
allowed to play on deck, but carefully watched. 



70 

Still the weather continued the same, or changing- 
slightly. But I was able now to see all the grandeur of 
my surroundings, notwithstanding the weather. 

Oh, what solemn thoughts I had! How deeply I felt 
the greatness, the power of the scene! The immeasura- 
ble distance from horizon to horizon; the huge billows 
forever changing their shapes — now only a wavy and 
rolling plain, now a chain of great mountains, coming 
and going farther away; then a town in the distance, per- 
haps, with spires and towers and buildings of gigantic 
dimensions; and mostly a vast mass of uncertain shapes, 
knocking against each other in fury, and seething and 
foaming in their anger; the grey sky, with its mountains 
of gloomy clouds, flying, moving with the waves, as it 
seemed, very near them; the absence of any object be- 
sides the one ship; and the deep, solemn groans of the 
sea, sounding as if all the voices of the world had been 
turned into sighs and then gathered into that one mourn- 
ful sound — so deeply did I feel the presence of these 
things, that the feeling became one of awe, both painful 
and sweet, and stirring and warming, and deep and calm 
and grand. 

I thought of tempests and shipwreck, of lives lost, 
treasures destroyed, and all the tales I had heard of the 
misfortunes at sea, and knew I had never before had such 
a clear idea of them. I tried to realize that I saw only a 



71 

part of an immense whole, and then my feelings were ter- 
rible in their force. I was afraid of thinking- then, but 
could not stop it. My mind would go on working, till 1 
was overcome by the strength and power that was great- 
er than myself. What I did at such times I do not know. 
I must have been dazed. 

After a while I could sit quietly and gaze far away. 
Then I would imagine myself all alone on the ocean, and 
Robinson Crusoe was very real to me. l was alone 
sometimes. I was aware of no human presence; I was 
conscious only of sea and sky and something I did not 
understand. And as I listened to its solemn voice, I felt 
as if I had found a friend, and knew that I loved the 
ocean. It seemed as if it were within as well as without, 
a part of myself; and I wondered how I had lived without 
it, and if I could ever part with it. 

The ocean spoke to me in other besides mournful or 
angry tones. I loved even the angry voice, but when it 
became soothing, I could hear a sweet, gentle accent that 
reached my soul rather than my ear. Perhaps I imagin- 
ed it. I do not know. What was real and what imagin- 
ary blended in one. But I heard and felt it, and at such 
moments I wished I could live on the sea forever, and 
thought that the sight of land would be very unwelcome 
to me. I did not want to be near any person. Alone 
with the ocean forever — that was my wish. 



Leading a quiet life, the same every day, and thinking 
such thoughts, feeling such emotions, the days were very 
long. I do not know how the others passed the time, be- 
cause I was so lost in my meditations. But when the sky 
would smile for awhile — when a little sunlight broke a 
path for itself through the heavy clouds, whith disappear- 
ed as though frightened; and when the sea looked more 
friendly, and changed its color to match the heavens, 
which were higher up — then we would sit on deck to- 
gether, and laugh for mere happiness as we talked of the 
nearing meeting, which the unusual fairness of the weath- 
er seemed to bring nearer. Sometimes, at such minutes 
of sunshine and gladness, a few birds would be seen 
making their swift journey to some point we did not 
know of; sometimes among the light clouds, then almost 
touching the surface of the waves. How shall I tell you 
what we felt at the sight? The birds were like old 
friends to us, and brought back many memories, which 
seemed very old, though really fresh. All felt saddef 
when the distance became too great for us to see the dear 
little friends, though it was not for a long time after their 
first appearance. We used to watch for them, and often 
mistook the clouds for birds, and were thus disappointed. 
When they did come, how envious we were of their 
wings! It was a new thought to me that the birds had 
more power than man. 



72> 

In this way the days went by. I thought my thoughts 
each day, as I watched the scene, hoping to see a beauti- 
ful sunset some day. I never did, to my disappointment. 
And each night, as I lay in my berth, waiting for sleep, I 
wished I might be able even to hope for the happiness of 
a sea-voyage after this had been ended. 

Yet, when, on the twelfth day after leaving Hamburg, 
the captain announced that we should see land before 
long, I rejoiced as much as anybody else. We were so 
excited with expectation that nothing else was heard but 
the talk of the happy arrival, now so near. Some were 
even willing to stay up at night, to be the first ones to see 
the shores of America. It was therefore a great disap- 
pointment when the captain said, in the evening, that we 
would not reach Boston as soon as he expected, on ac- 
count of the weather. 

A dense fog set in at night, and grew heavier and heav- 
ier, until the ''Polynesia" was closely walled in by it, and 
we could just see from one end of the deck to the other. 
The signal lanterns were put up, the passengers were 
driven to their berths by the cold and damp, the cabin 
doors closed, and discomfort reigned everywhere. 

But the excitement of the day had tired us out, and 
wr were glad to forget disappointment in sleep. In the 
mornfng it was still foggy, but we could see a little way 
around. \t was very strange to have the boundless dis- 



74 

tance made so narrow, and I felt the strangeness of the 
scene. All day long we shivered with cold, and hardly 
left the cabin. At last it was night once more, and we in 
our berths. But nobody slept. 

The sea had been growing rougher during the day. and 
at night the ship began to pitch as it did at the beginning 
of the journey. Then it grew worse. Evei*ything in our 
cabin was rolling on the floor, clattering and dinning. 
Dishes were broken into little bits that flew about from 
one end to the other. Bedding from upper berths nearly 
stifled the people in the lower ones. Some fell out of 
their berths, but it was not at all funny. As the ship 
turned to one side, the passengers were violently thrown 
against that side of the berths, and some boards gave way 
and clattered down to the floor. When it tossed on the 
other side, we could see the little windows almost touch 
the water, and closed the shutters to keep out the sight. 
The children cried, everybody groaned, and sailors kept 
coming in to pick up the things on the floor and carry 
them away. This made the confusion less, but not the 
alarm. 

Above all sounds rose the fog horn. It never stopped 
the long night through. And oh, how sad it sounded! It 
pierced every heart, and made us afraid. Now and then 
some ship, far away, would answer, like a. weak echo. 
Sometimes we noticed that the wheels were still, and we 



75 

knew that the ship had stopped. This frightened us 
more than ever, for we imagined the worst reasons for it. 

It was day again, and a little calmer. We slept now, 
till the afternoon. Then we saw that the fog had become 
much thinner, and later on we even saw a sMip, but indis- 
tinctly. 

Another night passed, and the day that followed was 
pretty fair, and towards evening the sky was almost 
cloudless. The captain said we should have no more 
rough weather, for now we were really near Boston. Oh, 
how hard it was to wait for the happy day! Somebody 
brought the news that we should land to-morrow in the 
afternoon. We didn't believe it, so he said that the stew- 
ard had ordered a great pudding full of raisins for sup- 
per that day as a sure sign that it was the last on board. 
We remembered the pudding, but didn't believe in its 
meaning. 

I don't think we slept that night. After all the suffer- 
ing of our journey, after seeing and hearing nothing but 
the sky and the sea and its roaring, it was impossible to 
sleep when we thought that soon we would see trees, 
fields, fresh people, animals— a world, and that world 
America. Then, above everything, was the meeting with 
friends we had not seen for years; for almost everybody 
had some friend awaiting them. 

Morning found all the passengers up and expectant. 



76 

Someone questioned the captain, and he said we would 
land to-morrow. There was another long day, and an- 
other sleepless night, but when these ended at last, how 
busy we were! First we packed up all the things we did 
not need, then put on fresh clothing, and then went on 
deck to watch for land. It was almost three o'clock, the 
hour the captain hoped to reach Boston, but there was 
nothing new to be seen. The weather was fair, so we 
would have seen anything within a number of miles. 
Anxiously we watched, and as we talked of the strange 
delay, our courage began to give out with our hope. 
When it could be borne no longer, a gentleman went to 
speak to the captain. He was on the upper deck, exam- 
ining the horizon. He put ofif the arrival fo^* the next 
day! 

You can imagine our feelings at this. When it was 
worse the captain came down and talked so assuringly 
that, in spite of all the disappointments we had had, we 
beHeved that this was the last, and were quite cheerful 
when we went to bed. 

The morning was glorious. It was the eighth of May, 
the seventeenth day after we left Hamburg. The sky 
was clear and blue, the sun shone brightly, as if to con- 
gratulate us that we had safely crossed the stormy sea, 
and to apologize for having kept away from us so long. 
The sea had lost its fury; it was almost as quiet as it had 



11 

been at Hamburg before we started, and its color was a 
beautiful greenish blue. Birds were all the time in the 
air, and it was worth while to live merely to hear their 
songs. And soon, oh jo3^ful sight! we saw the tops of 
two trees! 

What a shout there rose! Everyone pointed out the 
welcome sight to everybody else, as if they did not see it. 
All eyes were fixed on it as if they saw a miracle. And 
this was only the beginning of the joys of the day! 

What confusion there was! Some were flying up the 
stairs to the upper deck, some were tearing down to the 
lower one, others were running in and out of the cabins, 
some were in all parts of the ship in one minute, and all 
were talking and laughing and getting in somebody's 
way. Such excitement, such joy! We had seen two 
trees! 

Then steamers and boats of all kinds passed by, in all 
directions. We shouted, and the men stood up in the 
boats and returned the greeting, waving their hats. We 
were as glad to see them as if they were old friends of 
ours. 

Oh, what a beautiful scene! No corner of the earth is 
half so fair as the lovely picture before us. It came to 
view suddenly, — a green field, a real field with grass on it, 
and large houses, and the dearest hens and little chickens 
in all the world, and trees, and birds, and people at work. 



78 

The young green things put new life into us, and are so 
dear to our eyes that we dare not speak a word now, lest 
the magic should vanish away and we should be left to 
the stormy scenes we know. 

But nothing disturbed the fairy sight. Instead, new 
scenes appeared, beautiful as the first. The sky becomes 
bluer all the time, the sun warmer: the sea is too quiet for 
its name, and the most beautiful blue imaginable. 

What are the feelings these sights awaken ! They can 
not be described. To know how great was our happi- 
ness, how complete, how free from even the shadow of a 
sadness, you must make a journey of sixteen days on a 
stormy ocean. Is it possible that we will ever again be 
so happy? 

It was about three hours since we saw the first land- 
marks, when a number of men came on board, from a lit- 
tle steamer, and examined the passengers to see if they 
were properly vaccinated (we had been vaccinated on the 
"Polynesia"), and pronounced everyone all right. Then 
they went away, except one man who remained. An 
hour later we saw the wharves. 

Before the ship had fully stopped, the climax of our joy 
was reached. One of us espied the figure and face we 
had longed to see for three long years. In a moment 
five passengers on the "Polynesia" were crying, "Papa," 
and gesticulating, and laughing, and hugging one anoth- 



79 

er, and going wild altogether. All the rest were roused 
by our excitement, and came to see our father. He rec- 
ognized us as soon as we him, and stood apart on the 
wharf not knowing what to do, I thought. 

What followed was slow torture. Like mad things we 
ran about where there was room, unable to stand still as 
long as we were on the ship and he on shore. To have 
crossed the ocean only to come within a few yards of him, 
unable to get nearer till all the fuss was over, was dread- 
ful enough. But to hear other passengers called who 
had no reason for hurry, while we were left among the 
last, was unendurable. 

Oh, dear! Why can't we get off the hateful ship? Why 
can't papa come to us? Why so many ceremonies at the 
landing? 

We said goodbye to our friends as their turn came, 
wishing we were in their luck. To give us something 
else to think of, papa succeeded in passing us some fruit; 
and we wondered to find it anything but a great wonder, 
for we expected to find everything marvellous in the 
strange country. 

Still the ceremonies went on. Each person was asked 
a hundred or so stupid questions, and all their answers 
were written down by a very slow man. The baggage 
had to be examined, the tickets, and a hundred other 
things done before anyone was allowed to step ashore, 
all to keep us back as long as possible. 



NOV 3 1903 

80 

Now imagine yourself parting with all you love, be- 
lieving it to be a parting for life; breaking up your home, 
selling the things that years have made dear to you; start- 
ing on a journey without the least experience in trav- 
elling, in the face of many inconveniences on account of 
the want of sufficient money; being met with disappoint- 
ment where it was not to be expected; with rough treat- 
ment everywhere, till you are forced to go and make 
friends for yourself among strangers; being obliged to 
sell some of your most necessary things to pay bills you 
did not willingly incur; being mistrusted and searched, 
then half starved, and lodged in common with a multi- 
tude of strangers; suffering the miseries of seasickness, 
the disturbances and alarms of a stormy sea for sixteen 
days ; and then stand within a few yards of him for whom 
you did all this, unable to even speak to him easily. How 
do you feel? 

Oh, it's our turn at last! We are questioned, examin- 
ed, and dismissed! A rush over the planks on one side, 
over the ground on the other, six wild beings cling to 
each other, bound by a common bond of tender joy, and 
the long parting is at an END. 



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